


Corruptive Invasion

by kasey8473



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-27
Updated: 2012-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-31 20:07:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasey8473/pseuds/kasey8473
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Castiel is trapped by Meg, who has a few ideas on how to spend their time together. Post ‘Abandon All Hope…’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corruptive Invasion

This sucks like a Hoover, Castiel told himself, borrowing one of Dean’s sayings as he opened his eyes. Sometimes the simplest of human phrases summed up a situation with utmost accuracy.

There was a stabbing pain in his head, of the sort that indicated he had, in fact, been hit by something and wasn’t imagining it. The last thing he remembered was a dark shape swinging towards his head.

Cas looked around, a quick glance to assess his prison. The walls were covered in symbols that would keep the remaining angel part of him contained in this room. He was still enough of one that it’d work. His captor had done his homework. These symbols were a bit more arcane than the ones usually used by demons. In fact, he could only think of one kind of being with that knowledge. Another angel. That meant Lucifer was involved in this. Interesting. He’d not bothered to use the symbols the last time, using the Holy Fire to keep Cas contained. Was he worried Cas would escape this time?

His attention turned to the ring of fire around him. It was quite a bit wider than the last time he’d been trapped. Two containment methods. Someone was being careful and had gone to an awful lot of trouble to contain him. The oil for the fire wasn’t easy to come by.

Next, he turned his head in an attempt to see the bonds at his wrists. He was at the wrong angle, head slightly elevated…on a pillow? It certainly felt like one. Soft. Cushiony. Yes, someone had put a small pillow beneath his head. Cas frowned. An attempt at physical comfort for him in an uncomfortable situation. Strange. He was on his back, trapped and tied at wrists and ankles to the floor. Comfort was irrelevant in that situation. To seek to give him some physical comfort at all was…bizarre. To his right by the door, he spied his coat and jacket crumpled in a pile. 

Alarming. Why bother removing either clothing item from him? A sickening suspicion niggled at the back of his mind.

This room was bare, with nothing he could use to aid in escape. It had been stripped clean, prepared with care. Not that it’d do him much good to try escaping. His arsenal of angelic powers was greatly depleted. He could transport himself quickly, and humans with him -- though it made him weary --, and still perceive things human couldn’t, but neither would help him in this case, nor did he know how long those would last. All other powers were gone; had fizzled away to nothing. Too much longer and he was going to be useless. As it was, unless he could come up with a plan, he’d need to wait for rescue.

Dean was going to have a field day with that later, if Cas survived this.

He despised feeling helpless. While he’d been in nasty situations before, he’d never been in such a powerless position, with no abilities at his disposal that were useful. The tide had turned, leaving him continuing to flounder in discovering the human strengths Dean and Sam claimed he had.

Personally, he thought they were simply trying to make him feel better about going native.

There was a movement above his head, in that one area it was difficult to crane his neck to see. The person stood and came around to his line of sight.

Meg.

He considered several expletives he could utter and discarded them all as unworthy of the dread seeing her brought about.

Dread. Such a human thing, yet wholly appropriate in Meg’s presence. She was quite a vile piece of demonic work.

Her knowing smirk was chilling, the pleased and expectant light in her eyes causing fear to spark inside him, mixing with the dread. Cas swallowed hard, concentrating on the knots, trying to visualize them and mentally loosen them. Maybe he hadn’t been trying hard enough. Maybe…. He twisted his wrists in the bonds, finding them just as bound as they’d been a moment earlier. Similar attempts to free himself failed as well. He couldn’t just burn through the rope either. In frantic seconds, it was apparent those powers were definitely gone, leaving him well and truly trapped.

This was _not_ going to end well, was it?

~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey baby.”

The fear glinting in his eyes like unshed tears made her giggle in eager expectation. He was trying to hide it and not succeeding.

“You were difficult to catch unawares and transport here, but with a little help, I managed.”

She’d made sure the ties on his wrists and ankles were nice and tight. It wouldn’t do for him to escape before she’d had all the fun she wanted with him. Meg circled him, heels clacking on the floor. She noted every reaction, from that delicious fear, to the jerks as he tried to free himself. While certain he couldn’t free himself or hurt her, she couldn’t be too careful after last time. It paid to be thorough before playtime began.

“Look at you,” she purred, “nearly outta juice altogether. I knew if I waited long enough my patience would be rewarded. What’s that feel like, Castiel? Being helpless? I’ve been waiting for this day. Looking forward to it. You can’t know how much I’ve been anticipating having you.”

His chest rose with breath, eyes slipping shut and body going still. How entertaining! He was attempting to calm himself. She bet that was a tad more difficult with human emotion now clouding things up. 

“You’re at my mercy, cloud-hopper. Though, that’s not entirely accurate, is it? You’re nearly human now.” She grinned wide. “The things I have planned for you…. For us.” Raising her brows, she stepped to him, straddling him and sinking down to sit. Meg made sure to wriggle as she did. “Mmm-mmm.”

His eyes opened, revulsion joining the fear, lips twisting with disgust. It didn’t bother her in the slightest. She liked seeing how discomfited he was.

“Comfortable?”

He blinked. “Should I be?”

“Not completely. Where would be the fun in that? A little discomfort adds spice.”

Ideally, she wouldn’t need restraints, but sometimes a girl couldn’t have everything she wanted. At least, not immediately.

Placing a hand on either side of his head, Meg leaned down, brushing her lips first to his right ear, “You’re going to love it,” then his left, “and hate it.” She drew back slowly, rubbing her cheek against his, stopping with her lips perhaps an inch from his. “You’re going to scream for me, Castiel. Long and loud and just like I did when you pitched me on that fire.”

Castiel watched her. It pleased her to note that he couldn’t seem to assume that calm manner he’d had the last time they’d met. How far into the human experience he’d come since then!

“Speaking of that fire….” Sitting up, she tugged her shirt up to expose her stomach. “Take a look at what you did to me, you angelic prick. You’re lucky I don’t light you up like a Roman candle and repay you that way.”

His attention fell from her face to the scars.

Meg recalled the pain of it, the wounds resisting her attempts to heal them and her Father refusing to help her. He’d told her he couldn’t, that the Holy Fire had left burns far too deep. His voice had been loving, tender, and expression sad, yet for just a second, Meg had realized the truth. He wouldn’t heal her because she’d failed to keep Castiel contained. He’d wanted more time to work on this angel and Meg had failed in her task. Retaining the scars and this body was her punishment. She’d healed them as far as she could but couldn’t remove all traces of the fire upon her. Her abdomen was a mass of scar tissue.

This time with Castiel was her second chance. Lucifer had given her leave to toy with the angel however she wanted, as long as she left a spark of life in him. Castiel would be given a final chance to join Lucifer’s efforts on earth. It was the brotherly thing to do, according to Lucifer, and if Castiel agreed to join Lucifer, he would be healed of whatever creative things Meg had done to him. If he refused, Meg could finish what she’d started.

But if he agreed…. She had more ideas on how they could spend their moments together. By the time she was done with him, he’d be reveling in the glory of his fall and in all of the forbidden things he was free to take part in. He didn’t appreciate as yet that freedom he could be enjoying with his holy shackles removed.

Castiel’s lips parted. “I’m curious why you didn’t take a new, unscarred host and leave the woman inside to deal with it.” His voice wasn’t nearly as steady and calm as it had been the last time she’d talked with him. Meg decided she liked that hint of vulnerability. It made her goal for him seem that much closer.

“Aside from the scars, she’s been a good host, barely makes a peep. She just rolled over and went to sleep, unlike the Masters girl, who wouldn’t shut up. Good hosts are hard to find, but you know that already, don’t you?”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “He’s tied you to that body. You _can’t_ take another host unless he lets you.”

Hmmph. Meg put her shirt back in place. His perception was as good as ever. She could scratch that off the list of angelic powers he was now lacking. “Is that what you think you see?”

“You can leave it, but you do have to return to it. What a good father he is.”

Was that…sarcasm? My, my Dean Winchester had certainly left his mark, hadn’t he? “As opposed to yours who walks away from his children? At least mine pays attention to me. _Personal_ attention.” An old argument, sure, but she thought it made a certain point he seemed to be consistently missing.

“How caring to trap you that way. It’ll be convenient to dispose of you when he no longer needs you.”

Meg licked her lips, forcing herself to relax and ignore the irritation at his words. She’d save her anger for later, when her immediate plans for him had been fulfilled. “No, no, no, baby, I’m not falling for that ploy again. You’re not going to make me angry. I’ll hold my temper in as long as it takes to rip those wings of yours the rest of the way off you.” Lowering her hands, she undid his tie, dragging the fabric free and dropping it beside her left calf. “Shouldn’t be too hard to do. They’re nearly gone as it is.” She undid two buttons of his shirt and slid one hand beneath the fabric, parting those edges a little and caressing his chest. 

His skin was hot, still hotter than average human skin, and firm beneath her palm. She wondered if that temperature would cool to the average temperature once he’d lost all of those powers or if he’d forever run a couple degrees hotter. Maybe his host’s body temperature was higher than average? It didn’t really matter, she supposed. Whatever the reason for that heat, she liked this man he’d taken as his vessel. He was physically attractive.

He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing, glance flicking to her hand.

“Don’t look so scared, Castiel. I’m gonna take _such_ good care of you, so good that you’re gonna love it long before it starts hurting. I promise. You’re going to ride the waves of ecstasy a few times before I start experimenting.”

He tugged his wrists against his bonds, as though doing so would loosen them.

She popped the rest of the buttons on his shirt and tugged it free of his pants, baring his chest and stomach, running her hands along the lean flesh. “That’s it,” she crooned, as his stomach contracted against the brush of her fingers and he twisted beneath her. “Get those struggles all out of your system. We’ve got plenty of time to play. Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum are running around in circles trying to figure out where you went. I made sure it’ll be a long time before they find you, but we’ll be done by then.”

~~~~~~~~~~

She was planning to violate him any way she could think of, and Castiel had the suspicion Meg could be quite creative when she wanted. The touch of her bare hands on his chest was repulsive. The thought of anything more intimate than she’d already initiated nearly brought on dry heaves. It would gain him nothing to attempt pretending he wanted her. She knew better…this time.

“You can’t think I’ll cooperate.”

“Oh I _know_ you aren’t willing -- now. It doesn’t matter if you are. I’m a persuasive girl…and patient when I need to be.”

Her mouth came down on his, but not in the sort of assault he expected. She tried to coax, gentle kisses that were no less repellent for that approach. He had to swallow to keep the heaves from becoming more than just an urge, tasting bitter bile in the back of his throat. When he refused to play her game, she laughed.

“Not ready for that yet? Mmm. So strong, so resolute. Do you know what the fun thing about the male human body is? Your body responds to touch…even if your mind isn’t into it.” Her lips feathered along his jaw, working down to his collarbone. “I’m willing to bet you’re pious enough that you’ve never tried sex. Am I right? I am aren’t, I?”

He wasn’t about to tell her.

“That means you’re like a horny teenager. All I have to do to get a standing ovation is flash some breast and after that rise….you’ll go off quickly -- whether you want to or not.”

Was she lying? He tried to remember everything Dean had ever said on the subject of sex and couldn’t recall if this particular subject had ever been mentioned. “There’s nothing about you that’s attractive.”

“You’ll hurt my host’s feelings talking that way.”

“I wasn’t referring to your host.” When he looked at her, he could see both the host (attractive) and the demon (hideous) , though the demon wasn’t as clear to behold as demons usually were. He suspected that power was soon to fade as well.

She raised up. “Aww…. Afraid you might start to feel something if you don’t remind yourself of my true appearance? Weren’t you listening? Attraction isn’t necessary.” Meg ran her thumb along his lower lip. “This could have gone very differently, you know, but I have to admit, I kind of like this playing hard to get thing you’ve been doing. It’s very sexy.”

“I’m not playing. You can’t ‘get’ me.”

Meg looked him over, from bound wrists to bound ankles, slow smile stretching her lips. “Baby, I already did.”

~~~~~~~~~~

She teased him as she would a willing lover, using mouth and hands to thoroughly explore his chest and stomach, glancing up at his face every now and then to drink in the growing horror and shame reflected in those pretty blue eyes of his. She almost couldn’t wait to have him inside her; to watch every tiny nuance of emotion slide across his face in increasing strength. Helpless anger. Humiliated shame. Unwilling satisfaction in an illicit

carnal act.

He’d already told her what she wanted to know without answering her question.

Her ensnared cloud-hopper was a virgin.

So really, she should get double points for that: having sex with a vessel-trapped virgin angel who had fallen and was losing his powers. Rip those wings away. Yup. Double points.

Meg sighed with pleasure. She’d been dreaming of having him for so long now, that it was still unreal to her that he was here, splayed out beneath her. When Lucifer had asked her what she wanted most -- aside from the obvious takeover of all creation -- she’d hesitated only a moment before revealing this fantasy. To her delight and surprise, he’d aided her in bringing it all together, every last detail, from those symbols she hadn’t been aware of, to the initial trap that had snared Castiel, to this barren room that would keep Castiel from using any telekinetic ability left in his body. He’d even obtained the oil for the fire.

Who said Lucifer didn’t reward his faithful children?

~~~~~~~~~~

One couldn’t call Meg shy about what she wanted and how she wanted it. That ‘what’ and ‘how’ were certainly plain at present. Did she think she was seducing him? Did she daydream about his acceptance and willing participation in the abomination she had planned?

Yes, he realized with a jolt, eyes widening.

Meg thought he just needed a little coaxing. She thought he was going to give in to her plans for him. She wanted the chick-flick moment where the stubborn hero realized his passion for the headstrong heroine and dragged her to him in a heated embrace before carrying her to the nearest flat or semi-flat surface for wild sex. He recalled the look on her face in the last ring of fire they’d been together in; the yearning when she thought he was going to kiss her. Then he remembered how she’d pressed against him, almost a surrender to the crushing embrace he’d held her in.

Looking back at her actions thus far, it was blindingly obvious.

The taste of bile grew stronger.

She’d been watching too many soap operas of the same variety Dean was secretly addicted to. Or was this a hold over from her human days, however long ago that had been? Had she dreamed of that sort of man then?

The idea that she seemed certain he’d be that man for her horrified him. What did she see when she looked at him that had given her that impression? Just because he’d chosen to disobey didn’t mean he was anything like her. She was an abomination.

Meg placed one hand on his chest, fingers curving and nails pressing into his skin. She pressed harder, dug, nails catching in his skin, ripping and tearing bloody stripes down his chest and stomach. A scream flew from his lips unbidden, the marks stinging. Blood welled up, trickling across his skin.

“Baby,” she spat in an almost silky, loving tone before flicking her tongue up each scratch, licking away the blood like a cat with cream.

Castiel hissed in a breath through clenched teeth. “Now I’ll need a tetanus shot,” he gasped out, which had the satisfying conclusion of stopping her progress.

Meg sat, wiping her chin and mouth with one hand. After a long moment, she reached out and slapped him twice. “Do _not_ channel Dean Winchester. If you have any hopes of getting out of here with some sliver of life left in you, you’ll refrain from tossing around his sort of remarks.”

“Sounds like a love match on your part. Dean make you all tingly?”

That earned him a harder slap that split his lower lip.

Cas raised a brow. “So, yes then?”

Her hand raised again, but then her eyes narrowed. “No honey lamb, it’s _you_ who makes me all tingly. Let me return the favor.”

“I’ll pass.”

“You don’t get to pass. Not on my playground.”

She returned to licking the scratches she’d made only to jerk away a moment later at the loud ringing of his cell phone. She sat back up with a frown, giving him a reprieve from the onslaught of her advances. Her head turned, gaze sliding to his coat by the door.

“You have a cell phone.”

“Yes.” It was an efficient way for Dean and Sam to find him and vice-versa with his powers fading and them hidden.

Find him. GPS.

Cas fought to keep the hope from showing. They were looking for him and when he didn’t pick up like he usually did, Dean would do that GPS trick with the provider. He’d find Cas, stop Meg.

He twisted his wrists, wincing a little as the rope dug into the already tender flesh of his wrists.

“You have service here.”

“Apparently.” His nerves stopped screaming for the moment and were merely whimpering, trying to recover before she started up again. Cas concentrated on slowing his breathing. Think calm, he told himself.

“I’ll have to switch to your provider. The service I have sucks.” Her attention returned to him, the lascivious gleam in her eyes shoving his frayed nerves back to hysterical screaming levels. “Speaking of sucking….”

She moved down his body, fingers undoing his belt, then pants, dragging the fabric away from him. The touch of her hand was like an electrical spark on his skin.

“There’s my standing ovation,” she crooned. “It’s so pretty, Castiel. I could play with it all night. Maybe I will.”

Castiel gasped. “Don’t.” The word slipped from him before he could stop it. He turned his attention from her to the ceiling. Maybe if he concentrated on it, he wouldn’t feel Meg’s hands on him.

“Pleading already? What sort of pansy-ass, wimpy angel are you? I’ve barely touched you at all. Save it for when things get really interesting, because this, here, is vanilla stuff, baby. Run of the mill, getting to know you bits.”

His ploy to ignore her actions was unsuccessful. He seemed to feel _more_ with his attention away from her.

“I know how it feels, you know. Such sensitive nerve endings all awake and eager.” Meg slithered up him, never stopping the movement of her hand. “I don’t always take a female host.”

His face felt hot, waves of shame and horror mingling with the tingles of pleasure at the firm touch of her hand. The worst part was that he couldn’t help it. No amount of revulsion of her and his circumstances was stopping the physical sensation.

She was, most regrettably, right on that matter.

This isn’t happening, he told himself.

Her lips nibbled along his jaw. “I had Sam as a host once, before those two wised up and got protection tattoos. I wonder to this day of Jo Harvelle ever noticed what we did to her while she was unconscious.” She laughed softly. “Okay, what _I_ did to her. Sam was asleep during that bit of fun. You know, it wasn’t part of my plan, but I was curious and had some time to kill before Dean arrived. Hit her head a little hard on the bar. She probably had a concussion.” Her teeth nipped his earlobe. “I was gentle with her. There was no blood. I thought about hurting her, making her wake and scream, then decided to keep it my secret. I left her with as little evidence of penetration as possible.”

As she spoke, telling him a story that was probably a lie, she continued to touch him, beginning to work her way back down his body, tongue leaving a wet trail down his chest and stomach that felt slimy. Meg paused at his belly button, dipped her tongue into it, then raised her head a fraction. “The only proof Sam and I’d been in her was his semen. So, if she wasn’t observant later….. The point is, Castiel, that I do know how good all of this is going to feel for you.” Her hand stopped, mouth taking over.

No. No, no, no. Cas squeezed his eyes shut. This isn’t happening, he told himself over and over, hearing his own ragged breaths as sensation increased. He was unable to stop the sudden surging of pleasurable release. His breaths slid into disbelieving, despairing sobs.

Her laughter was filled with mirth. “I think somebody liked it.”

“I’m going to kill you,” he choked out, eyes still closed.

“You’re welcome to try, but right now I’ve got all the power in our little bit of couple time.” She straddled him again. “Show me how you feel about what I just did to you. Open those baby blues, Castiel. Look at me.” Her fingers dug into his jaw. “ _Open_.”

He looked up at her. In his mind were a million ways he’d gladly kill her.

Her lips curved in a smirk. “That’s it. Lookie there. Are you getting angry with me? Mmmm. You’ve got nothing to hit me with, no way out. Not this time. Anger doesn’t really cover it, does it?” Releasing his jaw, she brushed her fingertips across his forehead. “That’s ire. Rage. If you could tear me limb from limb with your bare hands right now, you would. Let’s see how high we can amp it up before you short-out that fuse completely.” She stood and stepped to one side, pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it to the floor before unhooking her bra.

Cas turned his head, fixating on the door, finding himself praying for rescue. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Meg shinny out of her clothes. She was stepping back to him when the door opened. Relief surged through his body as Dean and Sam came in, Dean shooting Meg before she could do more than turn and see him. Castiel nearly wept from the sudden loosing of tension and fear from his body that left him feeling shaky and weak.

“Looks like someone had a nice romantic rape planned,” Dean remarked with a glance at Meg’s body. “Pillow and everything. How thoughtful of her.”

Dean didn’t know how right he was.

Sam doused the fire. How was it that with the fire gone he still felt the heat of it searing him?

“Just untie me, please,” he requested in a strangled voice, even though Sam was already on to that task. The words were thick in his throat.

“Are you okay,” Sam asked.

“She didn’t succeed. Of course I’m okay.” He lied. He deliberately lied to them, though from the look they exchanged, they knew the truth. They knew she’d…. He had sharp sense of violation; of his body being unclean now. As soon as his hands were free, he dragged his pants back into place and fastened them. Castiel wanted nothing more than to go stand under a scalding hot shower and let it burn away all traces of Meg from him.

Dean crouched to cut the bonds at his ankles. “Physically you’re fine.” Said in a way that indicated he didn’t believe it, yet would go along with the denial of harm if Castiel insisted on it. “How are you otherwise?”

Cas considered the question, trying to sort out the strong emotional response he was having. The emotions seemed to roll and churn inside him in almost violent waves. It was difficult to sort them out fully. “Angry. As though she took something that wasn’t hers to take. Ashamed that I couldn’t stop her.” Sitting up, he rubbed his wrists, missing the ability to heal fast. His wrists were raw from struggling. He looked down at them, swallowed hard to stave off tears. “I didn’t realize a woman could do that to a man.”

“It _can_ happen,” Sam confirmed, picking up Cas’s jacket, coat, and tie.

Dean extended a hand to help him up. After a moment, Cas took it, letting Dean help him to his feet. 

“You want to shoot her?” Dean proffered the gun.

Yes. No. Yes. Maybe…. Castiel stared at him. “Why would I want to do that? You effectively ended her time on this plane. It’d be redundant to shoot her again.”

“Emotional closure?”

“She’s gone. Is that not closure?” He buttoned his shirt, tucking it back into his pants in quick jerks. His hands shook.

“Well _I’d_ shoot her again.”

He turned his head, contemplating Meg’s body for a long moment. The memories of her hands on his skin and her mouth…. He swallowed, still tasting bile. All were going to take a very long time to fade. A shiver shuddered his body and he whirled, snatching first his jacket, then coat from Sam and putting them on. With them on he felt better, like they were armor shielding him. His tie was next. Castiel shivered again.

Now he felt cold, as though all of the heat had been pulled from his body at once. He paused in tying the tie, swaying a little. His sense of balance appeared to be off.

“Cas? Are you sure you’re okay?” Sam took a step closer, touching his shoulder with a gentle hand. “Because you can talk --”

“How did you find me,” he asked, shrugging off that hand and ignoring both the question and the suggestion Sam started to give that he could talk to them about it. He couldn’t talk to them, nor would he. It shouldn’t have happened. Ever. He preferred to pretend it hadn’t.

Dean kicked a foot into Meg’s side several times, as though checking to make sure she was dead. “AT&T: Angel Track and Trace.”

“Crowley,” Sam supplied. “Turns out he _really_ hates Meg. They’ve had several…altercations as he called them.”

“How did he know where she was keeping me?” Castiel turned back to look at Meg. He felt the urgent need to keep her body in sight as long as they remained in that room.

Sam moved to the doorway, taking a can of spray paint from the bag he had with him and painting over several of the symbols there. “He said he likes to keep an eye on her for reasons of general self-preservation.”

“A wise decision on his part.”

The sooner he was out of this room the better.

~~~~~~~~~

As soon as Dean said the words, he knew he’d said the wrong thing. ‘Nice romantic rape?’ No, not just the wrong thing, but the worst possible thing he ever could say right now. Then he compounded that with another remark. It wasn’t like he could stop himself from saying things like that sometimes. It just…slipped out. 

He squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds in a long wince, both at his own insensitivity and at Castiel’s obvious circumstances.

Meg had sexually assaulted him, or been in the process of doing so.

Bitch. If he hadn’t killed her already, he’d kill her. Then he’d kill her again for good measure.

Sam moved before he did, using a jug of water to start dousing the fire. There were tears on Castiel’s face, or sweat from the fire. Maybe both. Probably both. Did he even realize he was crying?

Dean could understand what Cas was feeling.

Barbie Bailey when he was twenty-one. Specifically his twenty-first birthday, that magic date of legal aged drinking. That license for a drunken all night haze that he’d willingly embraced. He’d been drunk before, but this was legal drinking. He hadn’t particularly liked Barbie, but he’d passed out in her apartment, waking to discover his semi-unconscious state hadn’t deterred her in the least. She’d undressed him and coaxed a response from him.

Damn. He hadn’t thought about Barbie in years and didn’t care to start now.

Yeah, he knew just how Cas was feeling.

He offered the gun, watched Castiel draw his coat about him as though it would protect him and start to pretend it didn’t bother him. Shock was setting in, Dean could see it beginning. They needed to get him away as quickly as possible. Maybe a bottle of decent whiskey would work some medicinal magic on him.

“Come on, Cas. Let’s get you out of here.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Lucifer stepped to Meg’s naked body and crouched down.

He wondered how deeply her attack had affected Castiel and how far she’d managed to take it before the Winchesters had arrived. It’d be best if she’d managed to give Castiel a few things to think about, like how painful a human existence could be. And the many ways he could be scarred for the remainder of his existence as one. He’d bet the world that Meg had left an emotional impression on Castiel, one that he’d remember forever.

He could feel Castiel’s fear and dread in the air still, a palpable thing and breathed in the scents of both. There really was a scent to fear, sharp and pungent. Dread had a bit of sourness to it. They were a pleasant mélange, a nice bouquet. 

With a satisfied smile, Lucifer stood. He’d wait a few days and see if Castiel was willing to change his mind yet about joining him. If not…there were other ways to get at him. Many, many ways.

Sometimes, he actually enjoyed himself in these pursuits.

He whistled a cheery tune as he turned and left the room.


End file.
